


Babysitting Duty

by areyoukiddingme



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bodyguard, Drunkenness, F/M, Love/Hate, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-13 20:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11767545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoukiddingme/pseuds/areyoukiddingme
Summary: “I don’t normally do this.”“Oh? Then what do you do?” There was a slight hint of sarcasm in her tone.“I’m a hitman.”He watched her face carefully, expecting her to flinch or at least look confused, but there was no change to her expression. Her features were impassive as she returned his gaze.“Well then, let’s hope that the bad guys come to find me.”~Falcone's niece is in need of a bodyguard for the week she's spending in Gotham. Zsasz has never liked bodyguard jobs, but somehow she manages to make it interesting for him.





	1. Chapter 1

Three people stood in an elegant room. An old man with a cruel, sagging face that had a surprisingly gentle expression on it, a young woman with contempt plastered on her face and a hitman.

Zsasz was receiving new orders but standing across from this pampered little twenty-something and his boss he had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be the kind of thing that he liked doing.

“I want you to look after my niece.” Falcone lifted his chin, emphasising his authority. He knew Zsasz didn’t like these jobs, but he also knew that Zsasz was the best in the business.

“I usually keep her away from Gotham because there are far too many people trying to expose and destroy my weaknesses.” Flacone informed Zsasz in his gruff voice. “But I’m letting her take over some of the family business, so she has to stay here, at least for a while. Keep her out of harm.”

“A bodyguard job?” Zsasz drawled, his lips pursing.

“If you don’t mind.” Falcone said, but in a way which was obviously not meant to be taken seriously.

“Not at all.” Zsasz spoke in his usual bored tone.

He stared at the young woman, trying to see what else he could glean of her personality, but felt that there wasn’t much more to be found. She returned his stare, her look less searching and more wary, her features filled with contempt and disapproval.

“She should be finished by the end of the week.” Flacone prepared him for how long his contract would be before smiling gently, leading her out of the room by holding a hand to her lower back.

* * *

They met again later in the day when Falcone dropped her back off at the house. Zsasz was already there and glanced at her when she entered the room he was standing in. She was immediately uncomfortable in his presence but tried not to show it as she strode purposefully towards the desk at the far end of the room, setting down a large pile of papers with a thump. She began to rifle through them, pouring over words that she barely understood and signing things when she didn’t even know what she was agreeing to.

Zsasz stared out the window, looking out for any movement but when not even a car came through the large, ornate gates he got bored and instead picked his way through the study. He glanced at boring old tomes, sneered at ancient family portraits before eventually setting himself down on the couch. He had found a paperweight on his travels and rhythmically started tossing it into the air and catching it again. She ran her fingers through her hair agitatedly, trying to keep her focus on the words in front of her but the constant movement out of the corner of her eye was proving to be too much of a distraction for her.

“You’re distracting me.” She snapped and he finally took the hint, placing the paperweight back on the table where he found it.

“I’m bored.” He stated, staring at the ceiling.

She wanted to express how bored she was too, but there was no point. She _had_  to do this, just as he had to sit there and wait even though there was absolutely no-one coming after her, and no-one ever would.

“This is your job.” She remarked instead.

“I don’t normally do this.”

“Oh? Then what do you do?” There was a slight hint of sarcasm in her tone as she glanced back at her papers.

“I’m a hitman.”

He watched her face carefully, expecting her to flinch or at least look confused, but there was no change to her expression. Her features were impassive as she returned his gaze. 

“Well then, let’s hope that the bad guys come to find me.” Her voice was mocking and his jaw clenched in anger.

“Don’t patronize me.” He spoke, his voice low and dangerous.

“Look, I’m as happy with this as you are, so don’t get pissy with me.” She pointed a finger at him accusingly and he stood, straightening his waistcoat and cricking his neck.

He could kill her now, pretend he’d been ambushed and he hadn’t been able to save her in the cross-fire. But then Flacone would blame him, and that would mean no more fun jobs. So he’d have to humour the brat.

“What are you trying to do?” He asked, staring at the paper scattering the desk.

“I’m going through contracts.”

“Fascinating.”

“Well, it’s what I’m _trying_  to do.” She looked at him pointedly, her hands on her papers.

“I’ll wait outside.” He proposed.

“Good plan.” She smiled a little too widely at him and he sloped out of the room.

* * *

Zsasz was sitting outside the door of the study, his legs sprawled in front of him, one leg propped up with a hand resting on his knee. He stood up immediately when she stepped out of the room but she merely stalked past, speaking to him over her shoulder.

“I’m going to a party.” She informed him haughtily.

He followed after her fast pace and they both reached the stairs before she stopped, placing a finger on his chest.

“I don’t need to be followed to my bedroom.” She raised her eyebrows at him before continuing up the stairs.

He scowled at her back while he waited at the bottom of the stairs.

She emerged almost two hours later in a low-cut dress, her makeup pristine and heels allowing her to almost reach the same height as him. She beckoned for him to follow her as she left the house and stepped into the car waiting outside.

She slipped in beside the driver and began to instruct him on where to go and where to meet them when she was finished. Zsasz got into the backseat and they pulled out of the driveway as he listened to her senseless babble in the front seat. He watched the streets of Gotham pass his window; it was going to be another boring night, but at least they were outside, where there were possible dangers and places for maniacs to hide.

* * *

When they arrived Zsasz discovered that it was exactly what he was expecting it to be. A thumping club where twenty-something’s go to get drunk in a dark room. He followed her inside but broke off as soon as they entered the premises, choosing to watch her from a distance. She didn’t seem to notice as she met with people she knew and began drinking, heavily.

What with the blaring noise and the flashing lights of the club he thought she’d snuck away from him a few times, then he’d spot her again, hidden amongst the crush of the dance floor or sprawled over someone on the sofas in the corner.

And she was watching him too, when she remembered. Whenever she saw him she could see his eyes darting around the room, occasionally landing back on her before roving around the club again. When his arms were folded she could see the bulge of weapons underneath his clothing and she instantly felt safer. She had only been outside the house with him for a few hours, but she had already began to trust him implicitly.

Zsasz was just beginning to think that whatever his pay check was at the end of this it wouldn’t be enough when she beckoned him over. His jaw shifted but he approached her, knowing that it was going to be for some inane reason but decided to follow her instructions anyway.

She was standing next to two people, both as tipsy as she was, but they looked wary as he approached them. She grinned at him, pointing at him in a child-like manner.

“Isn’t he sinister?” She asked rhetorically, leaning over the two people.

His lips pursed as they all gawked at him, staring like he was an exhibit at the zoo, and others started to glance his way too. On the walls of the club, he had been invisible, no-one could see him and no-one cared, but in the middle of the dance floor he stood out like a sore thumb.

“My uncle said I needed someone to look after me.” She slurred. “But when he said bodyguard I thought he was meaning someone hench, like big and muscly and strong. But then I get this guy, with his sinister eyes.”

She lost interest in him quickly, turning back to the dance floor as the thumping bass changed in tempo slightly.

“I love this song.” She grinned, grabbing the person closest to her, which just so happened to be Zsasz.

The dance floor quickly became a crush of people all swaying in a drunken haze and Zsasz was penned in as she grabbed his hands, dragging them over her own waist.

He began to feel intensely uncomfortable, and it wasn’t just the swell of bodies surrounding him. He had never thought of the woman he was guarding as a sexual object, but now he was and it was starting to creep into his thoughts and affect his professionalism.

She ground up against him, her eyes bright with alcohol and he resisted the urge to bite his lip. He ground his teeth instead, pulling away from her grip quickly, attempting to push his way through the swarm of people to get off of the dance floor.

She only noticed his absence for a few seconds before latching onto another young male, mashing her body against his with the same abandon as she did with Zsasz. He disappeared into the bathroom, ignoring the stoned looks he was getting as he splashed his face with water before returning to the club, alert and attempting to ignore the distraction that was his charge.

It was nearing four o'clock in the morning when her friends approached Zsasz, holding her sagging body between them. He thanked them blandly, wrapping his arm around her waist in an attempt to support her as he exited out onto the street. He briskly searched her pockets and made a brief call to the chauffeur.

His arm was tiring and he slapped her face lightly in an attempt to make her conscious enough that she could stand on her own but she refused to even flinch. He sighed heavily, setting her down onto the pavement, gritting his teeth as more drunks stumbled out of the club past them, singing loudly.

Staring at the scantily-clad woman lying on the pavement, he considered leaving her there and taking the car for himself. One night on the cold floor wouldn’t kill her, just give her a nasty cold. He wondered how she got back on other nights out seeing as her friends were so dismissive and she got so blackout drunk.

The car pulled up and he dragged her inside, pushing her up against the door of the backseat while he slipped onto the other seat. She mumbled incoherently on the way back, one sharp turn making her limp body land onto Zsasz’s lap. He protested at first before giving up, knowing that she was just going to slump back down so he let her rest her head on his lap while he struggled to find a place to rest his hands. A tiny, tiny part of him wanted to touch her so in the relative isolation of the car and… unique circumstances he caved into this urge, ever so gently placing the pads of his fingers on her neck, trying not to wake her.

When they pulled up the chauffeur offered to help to get her inside, obviously used to this behavior, but Zsasz declined, instead choosing to drag her inside by flinging her arm over his shoulder and gripping her around the waist tightly. She seemed to regain consciousness as he pulled her inside and by the time they stumbled into the house she was standing on her own two feet, albeit swaying slightly.

They stood opposite one another, the ringing silence of the house deafening, especially considering volume of the rest of the night. She looked unusually solemn for someone so drunk.

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier Victor.” She slurred and he started at her using his name. He didn’t even know she knew his name, let alone his first name.

“I don’t think you’re scary.”

He couldn’t tell whether she was referring to a conversation she’d had with someone else or one she’d simply made up in her head.

“You’re actually very nice. For a hitman.” She giggled and lurched forward, her eyes bleary.

He grasped her quickly before she fell and she used his bent position and hands on her person to press her lips to his. Her movements were sloppy and imprecise and he was impressed she had found his lips at all, but it was a kiss nonetheless. She curled her hands into his lapels while his brain worked, and then it was over as quickly as it started.

She giggled again at his confused features, spinning on her heel as though she was light as air.

“I’m going to bed now.” She declared, staggering up the stairs and hopefully to her own room.

Zsasz attempted to understand what just happened before giving up, deciding to lose his brain to sleep. He pitched on one of the sofas downstairs as he didn’t fancy listening to the sound of her retching at some ungodly hour in the morning. He slept with difficulty, unable to comprehend why his heart started to race whenever he thought of the young woman sleeping upstairs.

* * *

She staggered into the front room, nearly jumping out of her skin when she spotted a dark figure on the sofa, only to realise that it was Zsasz. She scoffed angrily, shifting her sunglasses back into place on her face as she tried to get over her shock.

He was still lying in the place he'd slept overnight but had already been woken up by her footsteps on the stairs so when she came into the room and jumped he simply gave her a wry smile.

“How are you feeling?” He asked her, a slight lilt in his voice.

“Shut up.” She snapped, but there was also a playfulness in her tone that suggested she wasn’t quite as serious as she let on.

She rubbed her temples, swaying slightly before noticing Zsasz and where he was perched.

“Were you there all night?” She asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“Yes.”

“Don’t you get someone to switch out?” She pulled the glasses slowly down her face, fixing him with an earnest look. “A night porter or something?”

“I’m a light sleeper.” He explained, standing up and stretching.

She looked concerned as she shifted from foot to foot.

“Didn’t my uncle give you a room?”

“No.” He gave her an even look. “I’m used to sleeping in dire conditions.”

“Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean you should endure it.” She started walking towards the kitchen and he sloped after her.

“There’s so many rooms in this bloody house, you may as well take one of them if you’re going to be staying for the entirety of my trip.” She spoke over her shoulder as they weaved their way through the house. “Only a couple of rooms are occupied. Mine is upstairs, three doors to the left and all downstairs are the ‘servants quarters’, it’s old-fashioned, I know. But apart from that, help yourself. Wherever you can do your job the best.”

He nodded gratefully as they entered the kitchen. He sat down on one of the chairs around the table while watching her fix her own breakfast. He couldn’t stop smiling to himself about her sunglasses indoors, but when she looked back and saw him grinning insanely she looked genuinely disturbed for the first time. She set down her breakfast, eyeing him warily.

At that look, he let his smile fade and his mind wander.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” He asked.

He didn’t notice any marked difference in her behaviour towards him, and he wasn’t about to bring up the fact that she had kissed him last night.

Her face fell and she paled slightly, her hands frozen as she looked at him.

“Oh god, what did I do? I didn’t do anything stupid did I?” She asked him quickly. “I have done stupid things before. I got engaged once, but we won’t talk about that.”

She rubbed her ring finger gingerly as she waited for his response.

He could tell her any number of things. She had literally married someone, punched someone in the face, kissed a stranger and watch her make panicked phone calls to try and figure out who it was.

“No. You didn’t do anything stupid.”

She looked relieved, but not completely relaxed.

“Are you sure? I’d much rather find out about it from you than the papers.”

“I’m sure.”

She smiled at him gratefully and stood up, having finished her breakfast.

“Right. I’m going to watch crappy daytime telly to try and get rid of this headache. I have a stupid dinner at five, but I don’t have to move until then.”

She started to walk out of the room but stopped herself halfway and turned, as if she’d forgotten something. She wrung her hands anxiously and it looked as if she was having real difficulty getting these words out.

“I talked to my chauffeur this morning. He told me what you did last night.”

Zsasz let his eyebrows knit together, looking at her curiously.

“Thank you for taking me home. Sometimes I don’t make it.”

Then, as if it had truly pained her, she left the room as quickly as she possibly could. He smiled before quickly stopping himself; he had smiled more often in the past two days than he ever had in his life. He wondered what he was coming down with before fixing his own breakfast.

* * *

She came down the stairs hours later, dressed up and ready to go out. She gave Zsasz a small nod as she walked past him. They had somehow reached a mutual understanding, and Zsasz couldn’t tell whether he preferred this or going at one another’s throats constantly.

Last night, Zsasz had discovered that she wasn’t just some pony-owning snob and she had discovered that Zsasz wasn’t just an inhuman killing machine. Over the course of one night, both of them had discovered that the other was, in fact, human.

When they got into the car she slipped into the backseat beside Zsasz. They rode in silence to the restaurant, until Zsasz piped up.

“Who are you meeting?” He asked as he stared out of the window, acting disinterested.

“People my uncle wants me to make contacts with.” Her tone was bored and she obviously didn’t want to go to this dinner.

“He calls them all 'youngsters’, so I have to make the business deals with them.” She sighed, watching the tall buildings of Gotham fly past them.

“It doesn’t help that I still have that headache.” She grumbled.

“Perhaps heavily drinking before a formal dinner isn’t a good idea.” He suggested and the car began to slow, pulling up beside a posh restaurant.

She gave him a look before exiting the car, smiling elegantly at the greeters as she walked into the restaurant, having the maître d’ lead her to the table where most of the other guests had already arrived.

Zsasz lingered behind her as she entered the restaurant. Then as soon as he discovered her table he gave the place a quick sweep-over; exits, entrances, possible dangers and when he was satisfied with his check he settled with watching her table from the shady corners of the restaurant. Waiters occasionally slowed to stare at him accusingly but all he had to go was give them a look and they would quickly move on and not bother him. 

Once Zsasz was secure in the fact that there were no dangers he grew bored again, staring at the table where she was sitting. He could tell she was extremely disinterested in the people around her, her gaze kept lifting from the table and staring around the restaurant. She only spoke when someone asked her something, but apart from that she had a vacant stare while the others talked around her. Once, her gaze wandered over to Zsasz but, seeing that he was already staring at her, she quickly looked away, shifting in her chair.

Dessert had just arrived when there was a commotion at the front of the restaurant. She looked immediately to Zsasz who tensed, hand automatically flinching towards his firearms. It got so loud that soon all of the patrons were staring towards the door and muttering to one another.

A masked man shoved through the restaurant doors, armed with two large guns which he held in both hands. He shot a few warning shots into the ceiling and people screamed, ducking under tables, the braver ones sprinting towards the doors.

Zsasz jumped into action, running to her and flipping over a table to use as a makeshift barrier between them and the assailant. He pulled her down beside him using her wrist and he could hear her harsh breathing next to his ear as he tried to assess the situation.

The gunman wasn’t firing any more shots and he wasn’t voicing any demands either. That meant he was either looking for someone in particular or just robbing the place.

Everyone who had been sitting at her table had scattered, she didn’t have a clue where any of them had gone. Two more shots fired but she couldn’t tell whether they were meant for anyone or as another warning. All the two of them could hear was nervous muttering from anyone who remained in the restaurant, but more and more people were sneaking then rushing towards the exits.

He mentally navigated the route out, cursing the fact that they had a table at the very back of the restaurant before impulsively grabbing her hand. She gasped in indignation, wrenching her hand away. He stopped in his tracks, slowly spinning his head to look back at her.

“I’m _trying_ to protect you.” He said in a low, urgent voice.

She knew that he wasn’t one to fly off the handle easily, but she could tell he was trying very hard to keep his cool right now. A few more bullets were fired off somewhere in the restaurant and she practically forced her hand into his in a split second.

With her new permission he made his way through the restaurant, easily weaving through tables and chairs with her trailing behind, gripping his hand fearfully. He flipped another table over near the entrance, so close that they could see the doors. Zsasz couldn’t see the gunman but he wasn’t willing to take any risks.

“Let’s just go.” She muttered urgently, pulling at his sleeve.

He silenced her, lifting a finger while he listened out for footsteps. With the exit in sight, she grew impatient, her eyes darting quickly between the doors and Zsasz. In one rash movement she stood up and darted out from the table, dashing towards the door. 

She was halfway towards the door when a gun went off, the sound ricocheting off the walls and she fell like a dead weight. Zsasz’s heart stopped, adrenaline reaching a maximum as he stood up from behind his cover and pointed his gun towards where the shot came from. A few seconds passed and then the gunman peered from behind a door. Zsasz shot and the gunman fell backwards with a hole in the middle of his forehead.

Zsasz remained standing, only his head moving as he tried to tell whether there were any other assailants. The restaurant was now deathly silent and Zsasz was satisfied. He holstered his gun, stepping over the scattered furniture to get to the woman who’d been shot.

He watched her writhing on the floor, seeing the blood seeping between her fingers as he tried to understand it. He had been shot before, but he’d never felt it that bad. Sure, it had hurt but he had been able to continue running, firing off the occasional shot until either himself or anyone he was working with could patch him up.

But she was incapacitated, unable to walk or even see through her pain. He chewed his lip, watching her squirm before rolling his eyes. He lowered himself onto his knees, forcing his arms underneath her and she hissed at him, rolling even more into herself. He pulled back before trying again, gentler this time as he scooped her up in his arms. In this moment he wished he had backup as shooting someone was going to be seriously hindered by a dead weight in his arms.

As he carried her he mused on her situation; he had been brought up on this life. He had been beat as a child, pummeled and shot and maimed to the point where his pain threshold was so high it would take some kind of dismemberment for any kind of pain to seriously affect him. But she had never had to roll with the punches. She’d been protected. Spared.

When he stepped out onto the street he saw that none of the restaurateurs had lingered and there was also no sign of any police. Typical Gotham. Zsasz didn’t even have time to think about getting home when a cab pulled up next to the man holding a heavily bleeding woman in his arms.

“She alright?” The cabbie asked, leaning out of his window.

Zsasz chose not to answer, instead reeled of her address and got into the backseat with some difficulty.

“You sure she doesn’t need a hospital?” The cabbie looked at them through the rearview mirror, seeing the blood now seeping through Zsasz’s fingers.

“I’m sure.” Zsasz responded, giving him a look that invited no questions.

Zsasz deliberated on where to put her for the ride back. He could place her on the seat beside him, but the thought of her flopping about like a rag doll was unsavoury to him. So he reluctantly kept her on his lap, keeping pressure on the wound as he held her form against his.

She stayed unconscious for the whole cab ride, and then all the way into the house and up the stairs. He set her down in his own room, not caring about the sheets as he was just so glad to have her prone and safe. She was still losing a lot of blood; he’d have to deal with her quickly or they’d have to get professional help.

He reached for his makeshift medical kit before kneeling beside the bed. He lifted his hand towards the hem of her shirt, but hesitated. It’s either this or tell Falcone.

Decisively, he pulled up the shirt that was sticky with blood, exposing her midriff and the bullet wound that was still weeping blood. It had penetrated just below her ribcage on the right side of her body, but barely. From his basic knowledge of the human anatomy, Zsasz was fairly sure that it couldn’t have compromised any of her major organs.

Ever so gently, he wedged his hand under her body to check whether the bullet had gone through her or not. There was no open wound underneath, which meant that there was still a bullet somewhere inside of her. He sighed heavily; this was going to be difficult.

Zsasz collected himself, then wedged something into her mouth for her to bite into as he tried to extract the bullet. Her whole body tensed as he poked through her skin with a metal instrument, breathless with pain, too hurt to scream. She was caught between a world of consciousness and unconsciousness, her bleary eyes focusing on everything and nothing as she whimpered and moaned gutterally. He paused, hit with an impromptu twinge of empathy as he winced with her. This was another feeling he had barely encountered. Empathy.

He shook his head and continued digging, pulling out the errant bullet with difficulty. When it fell onto the sheets beside her he leaned back in relief, watching her body relax and she passed out again. She didn’t wake up, even as he stitched up the wound and cleaned it. He grimaced at his messy patch-up job and the blood-stained sheets, cursing but also thanking her stupidity. At least the evening had been interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

She came to slowly, eyes squinting open to an unfamiliar, but not completely foreign room. She tried to sit up but hissed in pain, and it all came flooding back to her. She’d been fucking shot.

She quickly lifted her shirt to see the bullet wound puckered over with rough stitches. She felt a little nauseous when she suddenly noticed the other person in the room.

The moment Zsasz heard her he stood up, coming to her side and leering over her. She fixed him with unfocused eyes, her head hurting too much for her to care about etiquette.

“Where am I?” She asked shortly.

“You’re in the room I took for myself.” He responded.

“So we’re back at the house?”

She had half-expected to wake up in a hospital bed after being shot.

“Yes.”

“Then- then did you do this?” She gestured towards the hastily sewn up hole in her chest.

“Yes.”

“Thanks.” She mumbled, her brain starting to clear as she struggled to pull herself upright. Zsasz didn’t help.

“How long was I out for?” She asked him, and as she spoke he went over to the curtains and opened them, revealing the early morning light.

“All night.”

“You sat there all night?”

“I told you. I’m used to it.”

But he didn’t have to. She knew that as she saw the heavy bags under his eyes, obscuring his eyes more than usual and making them look even more sunken in his pale face. Inappropriate thoughts crossed her mind. The thought of him sitting at the edge of her bed, anxiously watching her sleep to make sure that she was okay through the night. The thought of him gently lifting her shirt, trying to make her as comfortable as possible as his long fingers went to work at healing her.

“Does my uncle know?” She asked abruptly.

“Not that I know of.” He shrugged, crossing his arms.

Now his peculiar behaviour made sense. If Falcone knew that he had failed, that she had been shot under his care then he would most likely lose his job. He was merely protecting his own interests.

“Good. I don’t want him to know.” She muttered and she looked down, face flushing. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” He teased her. He had heard her perfectly but knew that this would be difficult for her to say.

“I’m sorry.” She repeated brazenly, looking up to meet his gaze. “I was stupid. I should have listened to you.”

“Yes, you should’ve.” He spoke flatly, his eyes wandering to the blood-stained sheets. “You’ll remember that next time.”

“Was anyone after me in particular?” She asked softly.

“I don’t know. I didn’t get the chance to ask.”

Oh right, she thought. Hitman. She nodded slowly.

“Oh god, if I was out all night, does that mean it’s Wednesday?” She asked nervously, sitting up straighter.

“Yes. Why?”

“What’s the time?” She ignored his question, attempting to swing her legs over the side of the bed.

“Ten.” He responded and reluctantly came to her side seeing as she was so determined to get up.

“I have a meeting at twelve.” She tried standing, her face screwing up in pain as she stood wobbling on the floor. Zsasz supported her shoulder, his expression stony.

“That’s… not a good idea.” He warned her.

“Look, if I don’t make this meeting you may as well scream at Falcone that something happened. I’ll be quick.”

They left the room at an agonisingly slow pace. She winced every time she took a step while he tried not to notice, the hand at her shoulder slowly lowering to her waist so he could support her better. She was too thankful to object, ignoring that fact that her heart hammered with his strong arm around her waist as they made their way to her room.

“I’ll get ready. See you in a minute?” She hinted as they stood outside her door.

He reluctantly let her go, his expressionless face showing as much concern as he could muster. She went into the room, shutting the door behind her. He paced outside the door, listening for sounds of extreme distress other than the occasional hiss and murmur of pain. He walked backwards and forwards, his head a confusion of thoughts; he had never been so distracted by someone else before. Even when one of his crew had been shot he’d merely let his anger direct his bullets, he’d stepped over her dead body and carried on.

When he grew dizzy from his constant pacing, he sat down next to her door, his legs sprawled in front of him as he rested his head back on the wall. In the confusion of last night, he’d forgotten to mark the man he’d shot last night, so he retrieved his box cutter from one of the many pockets in his jacket and wrenched up his sleeve to where he’d made the last tally.

He carved another thin, deep cut into his forearm, the pain taking his mind off of the woman behind the door. He watched the blood drip down his arm absently when he heard the door next to him open.

“What are you doing?” She asked curiously.

He quickly pulled his sleeve down as he stood up, nestling the box cutter back into the pocket it belonged. But it was too late, she’d already seen the tallies and knife in his hand.

“What are you counting?” She propped herself up on the door frame, her hand on her wound.

He couldn’t meet her eyes. His jaw clenched; if he told her the truth she’d find out just how fucked up he was. But, he supposed, there was nothing more he could lose.

“I’m a hitman. What do you think I’m counting?” He spoke scaldingly.

She looked to him, then his covered up arm.

“How many people you’ve killed?” She responded hesitatingly.

His lack of answer told her that she was right.

“Why?”

He had thought she’d freak out more, perhaps look at him with disgust at the amount of marks on his arm. But she asked him the question calmly, genuinely curious as to why he did it to himself. The question being posed to him was so harmless that he felt he had to respond, in some measure at least.

“So I don’t forget them.”

Others might have taken that as a romantic reason for cutting yourself, but she knew Zsasz’s brain didn’t work like that. He used those tallies to draw strength from himself. Every mark was a reminder that he had beaten someone, come out walking when another hadn’t, and that must drive him in the next fight for survival. The gash rubbing against his sleeve would sharpen his mind, reiterate that he wasn’t powerless in this situation and he had control, even if he didn’t feel it.

She nodded solemnly.

“Shall we go?” He asked curtly, desperate to end this topic.

She nodded, shifting her weight from the door frame to Zsasz’s side. He supported her down the stairs and into the car waiting outside. Zsasz helped her lower herself down onto the seat, his hand slipping from her waist as she screwed up her face. He went round to the other side of the car.

“I didn’t pick you up last night.” The chauffeur brought up casually as they pulled out of the driveway.

“We got a taxi.” Zsasz answered quickly.

“I am hired for a reason.” The driver said jovially, looking at them through the rear-view mirror.

They shared a look, her urging Zsasz to come up with an excuse.

“You couldn’t come quick enough.” Zsasz tried to come up with a vague excuse (that wasn’t entirely untrue) but it backfired on them.

“Wanted to journey home alone then?” The chauffeur raised his eyebrow at them in the mirror.

She flushed and Zsasz’s jaw clenched as he looked pointedly out of the window. The chauffeur had seen Zsasz’s hand on her waist. There was no point in objecting as it was a cushy excuse, but she desperately wanted to correct him or slap Zsasz. Instead, she settled for subtly pressing her hand to her wound, focusing on the pain instead of the situation at hand.

They arrived and Zsasz quickly went around the car to help her out. She toned down her wincing as they entered the building and the smartly-dressed lady behind the desk directed them towards the meeting room. Zsasz’s face hardened as he saw everyone mingling in the meeting room, all standing with no chairs in sight.

“This isn’t a good idea.” Zsasz mumbled. “Pretend you’re ill or something.”

“Nonsense.” She strode forward, greeting the first person who turned towards her with a large smile on her face.

He hesitated before following after her reluctantly. She thought that she was stronger than she actually was, and Zsasz knew that.

For the majority of the meeting Zsasz would stand behind her, her shoulder resting on the broad plane of his chest. The guests would eye him warily but he was so intimidating that no-one said anything.

“This staring is getting a little much.” She turned to Zsasz during a break in conversation. “Go and linger over there for a bit.”

She gestured to the corner of the room. He opened his mouth to object, but she stopped him before he could even say a word.

“I’ll be fine.”

He grunted, sloping off into the corner of the room. He rested his head on the wall, folding his arms, obviously not inviting conversation from the people around him. He closed his eyes, realising just how tired he was with a headache pounding against his forehead and his limbs felt heavily.

When he opened them again he struggled to spot her among the crowd. He needn’t have worried for long though, because a few moments after he’d opened his eyes there was a commotion at the centre of the room.

Zsasz’s protectiveness kicked in, all of the tiredness leaving him immediately as he elbowed his way towards the ruckus. At the centre of the fussing people was her, on the floor and semi-conscious, blood spotting on her dress.

He pushed everyone away, kneeling on the floor beside her quickly. He pressed two fingers to her neck, checking her pulse, relief washing over him as he felt it strong and steady against his fingertips. He lifted her head onto his lap, slapping her face lightly.

She opened her eyes slowly, fixing her bleary gaze on Zsasz. She could feel his hands on her face and from her lowered position his impassive expression looked almost… concerned.

“Another dream, is it?” She mumbled, speaking so softly that he had to lean in closer to hear her.

“Let’s get this over with then.”

She hooked her finger under his collar and pulled him down weakly. She pressed her lips against his and he felt a stab of shock but didn’t pull away as she kissed him, instead he let his lips soften. She passed out again while she was still kissing him, her head falling back into his lap.

“Maybe I should have taken her to a doctor.” He said to himself, his jaw tightening.

He looked to the blood stain on her dress that was rapidly getting bigger. She must have split her stitches. Then he looked up and noticed the meeting room full of people, all silent and staring at him with Falcone’s unconscious niece on his lap.

“Shit.”

* * *

 She came to again, her head foggy as she struggled to focus on her surroundings. There was a rhythmic beeping coming from somewhere and the walls were white and clinical. She opened her eyes wider and saw that she was in a hospital room with strange, thrumming machines and an empty visitor’s chair propped next to her bed. The pain from her bullet wound was only a dull throb now, so she assumed that they had her seriously doped up on painkillers.

The only light coming into the room was from the florescent lights in the hallway streaming in through the glass panes in the door, so she hadn’t noticed the man lurking in the shady corner of her room. When he stepped out she almost had a heart attack, she sat bolt upright and gasped, then hissed as the pain washed through her anew.

“Zsasz, I hate you.” She gasped, pressing her hand to her stomach.

He peered through the glass of the door before going further into the room. He sat in the visitor’s chair, his face expressionless as she recovered from the shock.

“What happened?” She asked, staring at her sheets with pursed lips.

“Too much blood loss. You passed out.” Zsasz said shortly.

There was no flicker of embarrassment or recognition on her face.

“Crap, does my uncle know?” She asked quickly.

Zsasz’s jaw clenched and he looked back through the door.

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you have just taken me home?”

“It wasn’t up to me. You collapsed in a room full of people.” Zsasz said accusingly.

“You could have come up with an excuse. Said I was on my period or something.” She pouted.

“Your uncle is extremely perceptive.” Zsasz fixed her with his wide-eyed, earnest look. “Even if he had believed me, he would have had a doctor look over you anyway.”

She sighed angrily, fists clenching by her side, but she knew he was right.

“How long do I have to have to stay here?” She asked, resigned.

“About a fortnight.” He estimated.

“So you told Falcone everything?” She inquired sadly.

He nodded. She ran her hand through her hair anxiously, a question that she was too scared to ask on the tip of her tongue.

“Do you still have your job?”

It was proven that her anxiety was about his job, rather than her being cooped up in a hospital room.

“No. But Falcone was nice enough to let me go with my life.” He said, a hint of sarcasm tinging his voice.

“I’m so sorry.” She said, looking physically pained that she had hurt Zsasz or his career. “It's my fault, if I hadn’t been so stupid-”

“No, it’s not.” Zsasz spoke firmly, fixing her with an earnest look. “I couldn’t protect you. That’s my shortcoming.”

He surprised himself with his words almost as much as he surprised her. When he stepped out from the shadows, she was almost expecting him to use her frailty against her. Pin her down on the bed, perhaps jab a finger into her wound and force her to get him his job back. But here he was, openly admitting that he was in the wrong even when he wasn’t, not even accepting her apology.

“Victor, I-”

Then a nurse walked through the door and started back when she saw a man sitting in the visitor’s chair in the darkened room.

“Sir, you really shouldn’t be here.” She said sternly, keeping the door stood open as she gestured at him to leave.

He stood up, giving her a quick nod before turning, approaching the nurse menacingly. She set her jaw and gave him a hard look, not taking any shit from the hitman dressed in black encroaching on her patients. He sloped past her and down the corridor while the nurse let the door fall closed behind her.

That should have been it. End of contract, what she’d wanted from the beginning, no more babysitter to take her around her home town of Gotham. It should have been a clean break, so now why did she feel that there was something unresolved between them?

* * *

Ten days passed. She stood on the top of the steps of her uncle’s expensive house, watching as her chauffeur pulled up. Zsasz stepped out, confusion marring his features as he looked up. He came up the stairs, stopping a few steps short of her so he had to look up slightly. He had known it was one of Falcone’s men that had called him, but he hadn’t expected to see her when he got out of that car.

The car drove away and Zsasz watched it go, screeching out of the drive before turning back towards her. The house was empty, everything silent as she fiddled with her sleeves and bit her lip.

“Well?” He asked shortly.

He had spent the last ten days taking shady jobs from people he hadn’t worked with in years, taking out his frustration on his poor targets or his bedroom wall when he was out of commission. She had been the only constant, always present in the back of his mind which only served to distract him. He couldn’t understand why she was still affecting him even when she wasn’t in his life any more, but instead of expressing this to her his confusion merely manifested itself as anger when speaking to her.

“Why did you call me here?”

She seemed put-off by how blunt he was being which prompted her response to be just as blunt.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your very busy schedule.” She said, her voice laced with scathing sarcasm. Then she seemed to remind herself of the man in front of her and the situation and her face softened.

“You’ve got your job back.” She continued, softly this time.

His head tipped to one side in confusion, but apart from that his face remained passive.

“What?”

“I got you your job back. I explained everything to Falcone and he agreed to give you your old duties back.”

Zsasz seemed about as flustered as he could physically get and he struggled to come up with a coherent sentence, so the first one that came out was inane and stupid.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because no matter what you say, it wasn’t your fault Zsasz. It was mine. So it was up to me to make it right.” She spoke firmly then paused, smiling to herself. “Although, I don’t think you’ll get all your old jobs back.”

Zsasz looked briefly concerned before she continued.

“I don’t think you’ll be on babysitting duty anytime soon.”

She started giggling and Zsasz’s lips pulled back briefly in what resembled a smile. She stopped laughing and slowly placed a hand on his shoulder, an action she was only able to complete because he was a few steps lower than her.

“I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused you.” She said, uncharacteristically genuine. “If there’s anything I can ever do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

She nodded at him decisively and took her hand off his shoulder, then turned back to go into the house. He stood rooted to the stairs, staring at her retreating back, his mind whirring. Then just as she walked through the doors he jumped into action, up the final few stairs and towards her.

“Wait.”

She hesitated, turning back towards him with an almost hopeful look in her eyes as he reached her on the landing. He looked to the floor, searching for the right words while she stared at him expectantly.

“We have to talk about this.” He said, his statement purposefully vague.

“What?” She questioned him, eyebrows furrowing.

“You really have no idea?” He asked rhetorically before sighing deeply, annoyed that he was the one having to bring it up. “You’ve kissed me twice now.”

“What? No I haven’t.” She said quickly.

But as soon as he brought it up, fuzzy memories leapt to the front of her mind. The hazy image of him at the house, her drink-addled brain urging her to pull him closer and kiss him. Her looking up at him from the floor, his face eclipsing her vision from her lowered standpoint, his lips the only thing she could feel over the pain.

“You remember. I know you do.” Zsasz spoke urgently, examining her features.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her face flushed and she backed away slightly, only to have him follow her, closing the gap between them. Her breathing shallowed as he raised his hand, taking her chin and tipping it up.

“Whether you remember or not, I need to know. Have you thought about me at all?” He asked bluntly and she backed away further, his grip going from her chin.

She shifted from foot to foot, her face flushing an even deeper shade of red as she looked anywhere other than Zsasz.

“I’ll tell you straight Victor.” She said eventually. “I could lie, say that I was completely out of it both times I kissed you, but that would benefit neither of us.”

She looked as if she wanted to die or sink into the floor, but she forced herself to keep talking.

“I have… entertained the idea of kissing you when in my right mind. That’s how I feel, but if you don’t feel the same way then please just leave. There’s no need for you to embarrass me any further.”

She was still blushing deeply as he approached her again, a predatorial look now in his eyes as he got so close that she could feel the body heat radiating from his body. She kept her feet rooted to the floor, averting her eyes away from the man who was looking at her as if he wanted to eat her.

Zsasz abruptly gripped the back of her head, tilting it backwards which made her mouth involuntarily fall open. He took this as his opening, pressing his lips firmly against hers in one fluid movement. Her eyes flew open as his tongue slipped into her mouth, something new and thrilling shooting up and down her spine.

He pressed their bodies closer together, his chest pressing firmly against hers as he continued kissing her. Their lips parted slowly, his hand falling from the back of her head as they pulled away from one another.

She blinked rapidly as if remembering where she was, then grabbed Zsasz’s arm and dragged him into the front room, closing the door behind them. He smirked self-assuredly, his hands wrapping easily around her waist.

“How’s your bullet wound?” He asked, one hand ghosting over where he remembered it to be.

She winced, but it was more out of habit that an actual gesture of pain.

“Stitched up a lot better than when you did it.” She teased him, a little breathlessly.

“Ungrateful.”

He kissed her again, using his height as an advantage to push her backwards until she was pressed helplessly up against the wall. Both of their hearts were hammering as Zsasz’s hand crept possessively around her neck, the other creeping down until it reached her thigh. He hitched up her leg at the back of her knee, their hips now flush.

A harsh cough from behind broke their moment, she parted lips and peered around Zsasz’s shoulder before wrenching her thigh from his grasp. He slowly turned, angling his head just enough to see Falcone at the other end of the room, nonplussed.

Zsasz quickly backed away, his jaw firmly clenched and his eyes trained on the ground. His hand twitched for his gun but he chose to see how the scene played out instead of acting on impulse. She was blushing deeply and she chewed her lips as she eyed up her uncle.

“Victor. When I relieved you of your bodyguard duties, I didn’t expect you to… take advantage of that fact.” Falcone’s voice was heavy with disappointment.

Zsasz could hear Falcone’s footsteps approaching him but he kept his eyes on the floor. Then he felt a slap on the back of his head, but it wasn’t aggressive; it was overly-friendly and almost approving. Zsasz’s shame turned into confusion as he looked up to see Falcone chuckling to himself. She was biting back a smile.

“You kids have fun.”

Then he turned away from them and they both heard him mumble as he walked out of the room; “you won’t be _my_ son-in-law.”

As soon as the door closed behind him she burst out laughing, sliding down the wall slightly while Zsasz gave her a death stare.

“You should’ve seen your face.” She said between gasping breaths.

He approached her again, pushing her shoulders back up against the wall, trying his best to intimidate her but she was laughing too hard to be intimidated.

“You don’t know when he’s making a joke?” She asked him in awe.

“He’s never made a joke around me.”

“Really?” She pushed against the hands that were firm on her shoulders. “His jokes are always awful anyway. Maybe I should tell him not to have fun around you in the future.”

“I can deal with the old man.” Zsasz smirked.

“Yes, but I don’t want you to _deal_ with him. Least of all in the way you normally deal with people.” Her hands meandered over the guns holstered under his arms and he squared his shoulders.

“Now that we know we’re not going to be disturbed… will you fuck me now?” She grinned mischievously, pulling at his shirt.

“I’m not giving in to you that easily.” He bit his lip, dark eyes slowly filling with lust.

“I thought it was me giving into you.” She raised her eyebrows.

Zsasz grabbed her elbows, kissing her firmly and backing her into the wall until her head cracked. She smiled into the kiss, pulling him in closer.


End file.
